


Draco, Luscious, Malfoy

by SpuffyCarrie



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Awkward Romance, F/M, Hogwarts Eighth Year, Post-Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-12
Updated: 2020-07-12
Packaged: 2021-03-04 20:21:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,698
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25222330
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SpuffyCarrie/pseuds/SpuffyCarrie
Summary: This fic was first posted over on Tumblr from a prompt by @mxstyassasxin - "That's my shirt. So is that... Wait?" and I've also posted my very first podcast of this one-shot if you're interested in listening rather than reading (see story notes). I plan a follow up chapter which I may also release as a podcast if this comes across okay.
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Draco Malfoy
Comments: 5
Kudos: 72





	Draco, Luscious, Malfoy

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable music, characters, settings, pictures etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.
> 
> ***If you're interested in listening to my podcast of this chapter, you can find it here. Please be gentle with me as it is my first time reading fic on podcast. I'd love to hear your thoughts.   
> https://spuffycarrie.podbean.com/mf/play/n2aswh/Draco_Luscious_Malfoy_Take_2_bbzva.mp3
> 
> This is unbetaed, all mistakes are my own.

Hermione was bloody cold, so cold she thought her bones might crack into shards of ice. There was only one reason for watching Quidditch in December, only one, and however much she convinced Ginny she was there for the team, her fascination with Draco Malfoy was exactly it. It was the reason she’d spent time at every Gryffindor/ Slytherin match since the beginning of term, attempting to look bored, while her heart raced every time the hot blonde did a fly-by, sneering at the Gryffindor crowd.

She couldn’t be sure, but Malfoy’s face softened when he saw her, and he’d sent her a cheeky wink on several occasions. She scowled and quickly dropped her head to pretend to be engrossed in her book about Wildflower Sprites, but her cheeks burned with something - nerves, anticipation, or perhaps embarrassment regarding her new attraction. It seemed it could possibly be mutual and that was something she had never properly considered until that day.

It was December, during her post-war repeat of seventh year without Harry and Ron, and she couldn’t help but notice how luscious Draco had become. He’d stepped off the Hogwarts Express, his body like skin and bone back in September, with the same haunted look she knew she had, but three months later, he began to eat and talk, filling out and becoming animated in the most delightful way. She couldn’t help but peer at him in the Great Hall or in potions class. His shoulders had broadened, and he’d grown by almost a foot, his jaw had become chiselled rather than pointed and his mercurial eyes were still as intense as ever. Except, now he smiled, he genuinely smiled when his few friends ribbed him or elbowed him in jest, just like she remembered him in those first few years at Hogwarts. His blonde hair was longer and fell across his brow and he carded his fingers through the soft locks as he chatted with anyone who dared talk to him.

It was strange, but Malfoy had become popular because he’d put himself out there and addressed the hatred without fighting against it. He seemed to have no qualms about answering other student’s questions and seemed to see to it that his life would become a cautionary tale.

He talked, but not to her.

His father was locked up for life in Azkaban and somehow a whole new Malfoy had appeared, one who was no longer repressed by Voldemort or his father. Hermione was impressed by how intent he was on rebuilding his life.

He was still guarded around the Gryffindor’s, but Hermione found herself basking in great delight as she observed the new relationship he had developed with Neville. She watched with interest at how animated the two became as they discussed ingredients and overheard them chuckling as they debated the merits of harvesting Knotweed Grass close to beehives.

He was different.

He was intriguing.

He was hot.

Draco Malfoy was everything she had never expected him to be post-war.

Harry and Ron weren’t there to kick off about anything she did. She was her own person and she felt thrilled to do as she liked, as she hadn’t felt this free for a very long time. She just wished she could take on the wizarding world like Malfoy had.

Her true attraction to Malfoy began when he sat next to her in Charms. Every seat had been filled and she was distracted, reading her notes when he plonked himself beside her before the class began.

“Granger.” He’d nodded and as his clean, spicy scent of citrus and musk wafted over her.

“Malfoy.” She’d replied, gulping and trying to pay attention as the professor talked. Her stomach lurched and she bit her lips together. Being beside Malfoy was hard, it brought back memories she’d rather forget, and her breath began to come quicker.

She felt his warm hand grasp hers as she panicked, and the professor’s voice evaporated into the background. She should remove her hand from his, she should scream at him for daring to touch her, She shouldn’t note how soft and large it was. She couldn’t let go. His hand felt safe, like a life raft, and she’d spent too long at sea.

He dipped his head to her ear. “I’m sorry, so sorry for everything. I know now isn’t the time to implore your apology but, Hermione…” the sound of his voice brushed over the shell of her ear like a prayer, “please give me a chance to make it up to you.” His thumb brushed across hers.

Since that day he’d watched her and she’d watched him, the sweat under her collar made her pull on her tie to release the pressure and run her finger under her collar as she overheated.

He took every opportunity to sit as close to her as possible in lessons and she felt his eyes boring into her every time. She hardly met his gaze but she wanted to.

He filled her dreams at night.

He filled her daydreams.

She found herself watching his every move.

She knew she shouldn’t, but she couldn’t help the way he made her feel.

She became addicted to his scent.

So, after a few months of fantasising of how he might feel if his body was close to hers; as close as his mouth was to her neck that day in charms; she made her way to the Quidditch locker rooms while the game was in full play.

It was easy. His name was on his locker in the Slytherin changing room and she took out her quill.

She wrote the word ‘Luscious’ between Draco and Malfoy.

He was mouth-watering and delectable.

She opened his locker and lifted his school shirt, inhaling its male aroma, the odour of someone she shouldn’t want but she did. She breathed out, Godrick, he smelled so good, so masculine, oh, so yum.

Still shivering she dressed in the shirt, buttoning it up over her uniform and reaching in to sniff his Slytherin jumper. It was heavenly too. She revelled in the waft of him as she nosed the wool, swiftly pulling it over her head. She was sure she could feel the warmth filling her bones as she rubbed her arms over the arms, the place his arms were only an hour or more ago.

She started as she heard an annoyed grunt and the slap of heavy boots enter the changing rooms. Desperately searching for somewhere to hide, she eased her petite frame inside Malfoys locker, barely managing to close the door behind her before the person caught her.

Shit.

It wouldn’t be Draco, he’d always been so amiable since his return. Even in Quidditch he was careful to ensure he wasn’t made out to be a prick on the pitch.

Hermione’s breath was coming hard and fast. What if the Slytherin player didn’t leave? What if Malfoy caught her at the end of the game in a room full of Slytherins? Surely the player who’d been sent off would head back outside to watch the end of the match after huffing about angrily.

“Where the fuck was she?” She heard Malfoy mutter.

A broom was slammed down against the bench and she bit her lips together, wondering how in the world she’d got herself into this position.

Oh, sweet Merlin, it was him. She was in his locker and it was him.

She heard muttering and the rustle of clothes being removed. Standing on her tiptoes, she peered through a small gap at the top of the locker. Oh, Godrick, he was removing his robe and then her eyes glazed over as he removed his jumper, his body taut as he pulled it over his head, revealing a ladder of muscles running down his diaphragm. She strained further and bit her lip as she glimpsed the blonde strip of hair running over his abdomen towards the button of his britches.

He reached for the button of his trousers and she lost her footing, barely catching herself with one hand on the rail above her. She squeezed her eyes shut as the metal locker rattled.

The door slammed open and she found herself face to face with Draco Malfoy.

She dared to open one eye.

“Morgana’s tits,” Draco staggered back, “Granger!”

“I…um, well, I…” She uttered, feeling her face flushing.

“What in Merlin’s balls are you doing in there?” He uttered with a look of shock. **“That’s my shirt - so is that...wait?”**

“I-its not what it looks like, I was cold…” She entreated.

He raised an eyebrow, “You were cold and decided my locker was the best place to warm up…In my shirt and my jumper?”

She stepped out gingerly, beginning to pull off his clothes with a blush of embarrassment.

“No, wait,” he grasped her upper arms, “Don’t.”

Hermione looked to the floor, sweet Circe this was awkward. Perhaps she’d read him wrong. Perhaps he’d think she was some silly witch trying to seduce him because he was a little bit dangerous with a switchblade smile.

She looked up into his dark quicksilver eyes and found herself lost.

“I like how you look in them.” He reached out and caressed her chin with his fingertips. “If it were up to me, I’d have you wear them every day.”

The roar of the crowd outside heralded the end of the game.

“Hermione, I…” He brushed a few stray curls behind her ear.

Stampeding feet headed their way.

Hermione panicked and grasped his neck, pulling him close and running her tongue over his lower lip. “Me too,” She uttered breathlessly, “Luscious, just like I thought. Meet me at eleven in the common room.” She kissed his lips and ran before the others caught her.

…

Draco watched her race away wearing his clothes, not caring he might later be walking through the castle half-naked, wearing only his trousers, a tie, and his robes. She wanted to meet him later and he was elated.

Swiping his tongue over his lower lip, he realised, fuck, she was as sweet as he’d always thought she would be.

And luscious - that’s what she’d called him.


End file.
